The Woman
by louvreangel
Summary: *Includes spoilers from Sherlock Holmes: The Game of Shadows* This is a one-shot about how Sherlock felt and acted after Irene's death. He looked like he didn't care so much but deep down inside, his heart was crying...


**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes, or the movies or the characters. Simply, I own nothing but this fanfiction.**

**A/N: English is not my native language so if I made any grammar mistakes, please ignore them. Thanks (:**

_**The Woman**_

This might be a little cliché sentence to start but it is something true; for Sherlock Holmes, she was always _The Woman_. Not a simple one though. For him, sometimes she was the devil himself in a form of a woman. Sometimes she was his biggest enemy. Sometimes she was his lover. Sometimes she was a betrayer… Simply, she was many things. He never understood her, never. Just one time, he tried. He tried to understand her, tried to solve the mystery of her life and moves. He never succeeded. Either she was good at keeping them to herself or he was weak and stupid when it came to her. Her, I mean, Irene Adler of course. The beautiful liar. The rose with thorns. The angel with lies. But still, she was The Woman and was always going to be. He was never going to speak of her name as Irene. Because he did not want to remember.

Watson knew he was in pain but he knew Sherlock could get over it. Eventually, Sherlock never figured out the fact that he was in love with her. He thought he was chasing her. But the affection and chemistry between them was so obvious that it was used by a maniac called Moriarty. Irene was Sherlock's weakness and Sherlock was hers. Using this against them was not fair but no one said he was fair anyway. Even for a clever person like Irene, he was too much. His evil mind was too much for her to handle. Because deep inside, she was a good person. She just stole and tricked people to live… Okay, I know. She had quite an appetite.

And now, Sherlock had this napkin in his hand, staring at it with blurry eyes. The napkin was full of blood belonged to Irene. Yes, it was Irene's blood. And this was, all of this was Moriarty's fault. Now Sherlock had many things to take revenge for. For Watson, for Irene, for himself and even for Watson's wife Mary. These three people were his only family anyway. Of course he had a brother but they were not close. They barely saw each other and those times were mostly on special occasions.

With these three, he spent most of his time. His half life time passed with them and he never regretted it. But he never let them know about it either. Whenever he was lonely he acted like he was not but his heart was broke. And again one of those times came, he ruined a good dinner with Watson and Mary and then found himself in a fight. He was fighting for fun but the other guy was doing it for money. He was harsh on Sherlock but of course Sherlock was too smart for him to lose. Naturally, he didn't think he would see _her_ there. He barely caught a glance of her in the crowd and that was it. The only thing left was the napkin she put there. She was teasing him and he was not liking it. Especially, he was not liking losing her sight once again.

Yet, when he woke up she was by his side. She offered him a job and went, just like that. Of course he was not going to believe that she wanted to find a midget—sorry a mignon—for no reason. She was obviously working for someone and he was going to find out who. And indeed he did.

He made a personal visit to Irene afterwards, wanted to warn her. That Moriarty guy didn't have a good reputation even if he was a known professor. He was after something pretty big and Irene was helping him. She was way over her heels this time. But when he warned her, she gave him soporific and tied him to bed. When he woke up, he was alone, naked, tied… Shortly, he was in a mess with a stupid maid in front of him, screaming like she was being raped even though the one tied up to bed was Sherlock himself.

But this was not just it. Then he found her, saved her life but then risked his own life and Watson's. Thank God they survived but Watson wasn't as lucky as he was. He had a sharapnel in his arm which was afterwards removed by a clumsy doctor—Sherlock I mean.

In the end, they formed a group and tried to stop that idiot Lord Blackwood who claimed to be a sorcerer working for the dark side. Obviously he was lying and cheating. He was a complete loser and in seconds, the world was going to find it out too. But of course Lord Blackwood would not let him go without taking his revenge. So he took the revenge from Irene instead. Thank God she was not dead. Sherlock took care of Blackwood and went to see Irene lying there. So he handcuffed her. Just like she did to him. And he put the key in her bra, knowing somehow she could reach there and take it. He didn't want to go and leave her actually but he wanted her to taste her own medicine. Though there was another reason he didn't want to go. She woke up. She was staring at him and he was staring at her. A storm was coming but neither of them cared.

After a while, he stood up, still thinking about what she said a few minutes ago. _"Everyone has a weakness. And he found mine."_ Then she looked at him, puzzling him more. So, was he her weakness? Was that even possible? Probably not. But then she called after him, "You're going to miss me Sherlock!"

He turned around and kneeled beside her. "Unfortunately…" He didn't continue to trick her into thinking he was going to say _No_. Then he wiped away a teardrop falling from her cheek with his thumb and said "…Yes." He pecked her cheek and disappeared from her sight.

Remembering all these memories was a pain. And that's what Watson thought Sherlock could get over. But seeing Sherlock looking at that napkin with blurry eyes meant that forgetting Irene was going to be hard for him. Watson was about to stand up and go next to him when Sherlock threw the napkin in his hand to the sea and the napkin flown with the wind. Once they couldn't see the napkin anymore, he came and sat beside Watson. Sherlock didn't say anything and they both went silent. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be done. They couldn't go back in time. There was no way Sherlock could save her. She was in a different place now, a place far far away from London, England… world.

Sherlock sniffed, wiped his eye and turned his head to the beautiful view in front of him. There was no more thinking of Irene, there was no seeing her, there was no waiting for her, there was no chasing her, there was no holding her anymore. Irene, the napkin and everything that reminded him of her were gone. There were only memories left. Memories of beautiful days. Memories that would never die… in his mind.

**Okay this is my first Sherlock Holmes story. Hope you guys like it. Please review (: Thanks for reading (:**


End file.
